


Inside your head

by lostonplatform934



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, Dream Sequence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Food Fight, Lots of tears, One Shot, Post-Hogwarts, Pregnancy, they're alive, well in their dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostonplatform934/pseuds/lostonplatform934
Summary: Harry and Ginny are thrilled to be having a baby, but they wish they could tell two people, in particular, about the pregnancy. A dream gives them the chance."Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real."





	Inside your head

**Author's Note:**

> Harry and Ginny cry more in this story than they do in canon, but I don't care.

Harry didn’t need to see Ginny’s face to know something was wrong. For the last minute, she had been standing in front of the fridge with the door open, her hand still half-resting on the plate of leftover treacle art she had placed on the shelf.

“Gin, you all right?” Harry asked, making his way across the kitchen toward her. They had just spent a wonderful evening at the Burrow, where they had shared the good news with the Weasleys. Ginny was pregnant, and they had just joked upon apparating home that their faces hurt from smiling so much.

Ginny didn’t answer, but Harry saw her shoulders shudder. He placed a hand on her back, and Ginny turned, blinking at him as if she just realized he was there.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked softly. Ginny gaped at him wordlessly, wearing a strained expression that Harry knew meant she was trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny croaked finally. “I’m being--”

She waved her hand around as if she were trying to find the right words, her eyes filling with tears.

“Hormonal,” Ginny settled on with a gasp before burying her head in Harry’s chest. Half-perplexed, half-worried, Harry pulled Ginny into a hug, feeling her body shaking with silent sobs. His brothers-in-law had spent a good portion of the evening warning Harry about the pregnancy hormones and cravings he would have to deal with, but this seemed different. This seemed serious--not that Harry wouldn’t take Ginny’s feelings seriously during the pregnancy, of course. But he had a sense that whatever was bothering Ginny would be affecting her whether or not she was carrying their child.

Harry kissed the top of her head.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

Ginny lifted her head from Harry’s chest and wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, her voice stuffy. “I feel---well---I feel terrible telling you.”

“Is it the baby?” Harry asked quickly.

Harry and Ginny were so excited to have a baby, but the pregnancy had happened sooner than they had planned. They had been married only five months. If he was being honest, Harry would have been elated if Ginny got pregnant on their wedding night, but Ginny wanted to get a few more seasons with the Harpies under her belt before having kids. And Harry didn’t want Ginny to have to sacrifice her career and give up on her dreams, so he had vowed to be patient.

Now, that she was pregnant though, Ginny said she was thrilled. Quidditch could wait for a season, she said.

“No,” Ginny sniffled, before adding. “Well, sort of.”

Harry sucked in his breath.

“Ginny, if you don’t want---”

Harry didn’t know how he was going to finish the sentence. He had spent days loving this baby, talking to Ginny’s stomach, dreaming about whether it would be good at Quidditch, whether it would have his father’s hair or his mother’s eyes. If Ginny didn’t want the baby---

“Merlin, Harry, no,” Ginny sighed, smiling a little, despite her watery eyes. “I’m so excited for this baby. Everything about this baby is perfect, except--”

Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip.

Harry stroked her back lightly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“I know,” Ginny choked out. “I just feel guilty. Because telling my family I’m--we’re--pregnant that was so special and amazing. And I loved seeing how excited my parents are. And it makes me even more excited. And happy. And--”

Ginny inhaled, her face screwed up in an effort to prevent further tears.

“And I can’t help thinking that I wish your parents were here. That you could feel that same joy. I feel awful that we can’t--that we can’t tell them--”

Ginny’s last words were barely audible as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Harry pulled her to his chest, one hand wrapped in her hair, feeling a burning in his throat. He pressed his back against the kitchen island to keep his legs from collapsing underneath him. The refrigerator door was still open, cool air wafting from it and onto them, but Harry couldn’t muster an attempt to close it.

“It’s silly,” Ginny gasped, voice muffled against his t-shirt. “I’m standing here crying, rubbing it in your face, that your parents are--that your parents--they can’t be here.”

“I’ve been thinking of them, too,” he whispered, a tear falling from his eyes. “More than normal.”

Ginny peered up at him, her expression blazing, her face still red, but her eyes suddenly dry. She reached up and brushed the tear from Harry’s face.

At her touch, he broke.

Sobs wracked Harry’s body. As his knees buckled, he allowed Ginny to guide him to the floor. She brought his head to her chest this time, enveloping her arms around him.

Harry hadn’t realized all he had been holding in. His parents were at the back of his mind always, but since finding out about the pregnancy, he had been unable to get their faces, their voices, out of his head.

They would have been grandparents. They should have been grandparents. But they died. They died protecting Harry, so he could go on to outlive them, go on to have their grandchild.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Harry couldn’t tell them about their grandchild. It wasn’t fair they had to die so young.

He didn’t want them to have died for him. He never wanted any of them to die for him.

Whimpering, he told Ginny this, as he had told her many times. Ginny planted kisses on his head and held him tighter, murmuring words of comfort.

They stayed that way for a while, Ginny leaning against the kitchen island and stroking Harry’s back, Harry crying into Ginny’s neck. When Harry’s sobs finally slowed, Ginny waved her wand, shutting the still-open refrigerator door and conjuring a handkerchief. Harry took it with a weak smile that she returned at the sight of his lopsided glasses. He meant to blow his nose, but then realized he had gotten boogies all over Ginny’s sweater and neck.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to wipe away the boogies.

“It’s okay. I don’t care,” she replied softly, righting his glasses and running a hand through his messy hair and moving her lips to his. The kiss was wet and a little sloppy, but seemed to steady him.

“Even if they’re not here,” she breathed when they broke apart. “A piece of them will be a part of this baby. No matter what.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, resting his head on Ginny’s shoulder.

She kissed the tears still on his cheeks.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet,” she said. “Because I think we’ve both assumed. But 'James,' if it’s a boy. 'Lily,' if it’s a girl.”

Harry grinned.

*****

Harry found himself standing in the kitchen. A delicious smell was wafting from the oven.

“Harry, are you making treacle tart?”

He turned around. Ginny was standing in the door frame in a pretty, dark green sweater dress and black tights. She looked positively radiant.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out.

She smiled.

“And I love you for making treacle tart,” she said, sitting down on one of the stools they had set up at the kitchen island.

Harry looked down at himself and realized he was wearing the Chef Potter apron Ginny had given him for his latest birthday. He peered in the oven. Sure enough, treacle tart was baking.

_Why am I making treacle tart?_ , he thought. _We have leftovers, don’t we?_

“Harry.”

He turned to look at Ginny. Her head was cocked to the side in thought.

“I think your parents are coming over,” she said.

He blinked.

That’s right. How could he have forgotten? That was why he was making treacle tart. His parents were coming over. The thought of it made Harry more excited than he expected. Why was he so excited?

Oh, yes.

Because of the baby. They were going to tell his parents about the baby.

Before Harry knew it, the treacle tart was out of the oven and he was dressed in dark pants and a nice sweater. When had he changed? He couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter.

The doorbell rang and he leapt to answer it.

His parents were standing on the doorstep, smiling broadly, his father, lanky with messy hair just like Harry’s, and his mother, with wavy hair a darker shade of red than Ginny’s. Her green eyes--so like Harry’s--were shining.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, enveloping him in a hug. Her arms were so warm and comfortable, and Harry felt a bewildering urge to cry.

“What about me?” James asserted himself into the hug and soon the three of them were swaying in the foyer. When they finally broke apart, Harry realized there were tears in his eyes. He nearly wiped them away, but he saw his parents were teary-eyed, too, so he left them there.

“James! Lily! It’s so good to see you!”  

Ginny had appeared in the foyer. She was beaming in that way that made her look especially beautiful. Harry wondered how on earth he had gotten so lucky, to be standing there with his loving parents and his incredible wife, who was carrying his sure-to-be-amazing child.

Harry’s parents hugged Ginny, too.

“It’s so good to see you, Ginny,” James said.

Lily gave Ginny an extra squeeze.

“Thank you,” Lily said, a little more seriously than Harry thought was necessary. “Thank you for having us.”

“Sirius, Remus and the others wanted to come,” James said.

“But we asked if it could just be us,” Lily continued.

“Oh, we would have loved to have them,” Ginny said.

“We know,” Lily sighed, looking a little sad for a moment, until James took her hand and smiled down at her. She leaned into his chest, her lips curling upward.

_His parents_. He loved how much they loved each other, how just one touch could make the other feel better.

At once, Harry felt the need to touch Ginny, too, so he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Did you make treacle tart?” James asked, sniffing.

Harry grinned.

“Of course,” he replied.

Suddenly, they were in the kitchen, sitting on stools around the island, forks in plates of treacle tart. It was strange, Harry thought. He could have sworn they only had two stools, not four.

But his dad was telling them about the time Harry’s mum had taken James muggle shopping. James had been so amused by everything that he stood on the conveyor belt at the register and yelled that muggles had magic carpets, causing the manager to kick them out with a stern warning to never return. How curious it was that Harry couldn’t remember hearing this story before? But Ginny and his mum were laughing, and he loved their laughs and the sound of his dad’s voice, so he pushed these oddities out of his brain.

When they all finally stopped chortling, Lily turned to Harry and Ginny.

“So, why did you ask us to come here today?” she asked, her tone slightly sly, as if she had a guess.

Harry looked at Ginny, who took his hand.

“You want to tell them, love?” she prompted, biting her lip to stop herself from beaming too much.

Harry hadn’t thought about how they would tell his parents. He wondered if he should have put on some big show. Perhaps he could create some sparks with his wand to spell out the words?

But he didn’t want to wait another second to tell them.

He cleared his throat.

“Mum, Dad,” he said, before his face split into a wide grin. “You’re going to be grandparents.”

“I’m pregnant!” Ginny shouted, unable to hold it in.

The kitchen exploded with his parents’ shrieks. His mum was jumping up and down, holding Ginny’s hands and squealing. His dad pulled him into a hug, thumping him on the back.

“Congratulations, son,” he murmured, ruffling his hair “I’m so happy for you.”

Again, Harry felt that urge to cry. He supposed it must be tears of joy.

His mum embraced him now.

“You are going to make such a good dad, Harry, just the best,” she sighed in his ear before giving him a light peck on the cheek. Harry blushed.

“And you be a good husband now, too,” she warned, more loudly this time. “I expect to see you giving Ginny foot and back rubs every day. And you better be prepared to run out to the store whenever she gets a craving. Pregnancy isn’t fun, you know.”

Harry agreed earnestly.

Meanwhile, his dad had his hand on a chortling Ginny’s stomach. He was swearing he could feel the baby kick, even though Ginny was barely six weeks along.

“Come here,” James called, waving Harry and Lily over. Harry met Ginny’s eyes, and she nodded before he placed a hand on her belly. He couldn’t feel the baby’s movement, but he could still sense the child somehow. He poured all his love into hand, hoping the baby could feel it. A sudden jolt passed through him, and, somehow, Harry knew the baby had.

He gazed into Ginny’s eyes, which were wet and twinkling with joy, and kissed her deeply on the lips. _Merlin, I love her_ , he thought as she brought her hand around his neck. He was so, so lucky.

“Ahck,” James groaned and they broke apart. Ginny looking a little bashful, but Harry was unashamed. Surely, his parents had kissed in front of him plenty of times.

“Don’t remind us how that baby got made,” James griped.

Lily rolled her eyes, swatting at her husband’s stomach playfully.

“My husband, forever the child,” she sighed exaggeratedly.

“But you love me,” James swooned, pulling Lily in for a kiss of their own, dipping her and leaving her giggling into his lips.

“Ah, gross,” Harry called mockingly, flicking a piece of treacle tart at his father for good measure.

“Oi!” James yelled when the dessert landed on his shoulder, but he was smirking. “Watch that.”

“You were being a pest,” Lily told James in Harry’s defense. “I think you quite deserved.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

And then Lily was smothering treacle tart over James’ face, and he was laughingly calling her a wicked witch.

“You started it,” Lily giggled.

“I didn’t actually,” James retorted, jerking his thumb at Harry. “This one did.”

“You know, I think he did,” Lily smirked.

But before either of them could move, a piece of treacle tart hit Harry in the face.

Ginny grinned mischievously, her fingers covered in tart.

“Woops,” she said.

“Oooh, you’re going to get it!” Harry proclaimed, reaching for more treacle.

Soon, all four of them were covered in tart and pie crust. The kitchen was a mess, and Harry’s nice pants and sweater were ruined, but he couldn’t be bothered.

Because Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy.

He was with his parents and the love of his life, smothered in his favorite dessert.

Even better than that, he was going to be a dad. And Ginny was going to be a mum. And his parents--they would be grandparents.

It was strange seeing them like this, treacle tart on their clothes and faces, so carefree and happy. They seemed so young. They _were_ so young. They didn’t have a single gray hair or wrinkle.

In fact, they looked close to Harry and Ginny’s age.

Maybe even younger.

“NO!” Harry shouted. It was all flooding back. His parents shouldn’t be here. They couldn’t be here because they were dead.

His parents’ faces fell. Harry blinked and no one was wearing treacle tart anymore.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” his mum whispered. “I just couldn’t tell you.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember,” his dad admitted softly, his voice cracking.

“Harry, what--” Ginny began, looking from Harry to James and Lily. Then recognition dawned on her face. “Oh.”

“How? How are you here?” Harry’s own voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.

“We knew you needed us,” Lily replied, reaching for him. But Harry turned away, sinking into one of the kitchen stools. He felt Ginny’s hand rubbing his back and he leaned into her, breathing in her flowery scent. At least she was real. That he knew.

“I always needed you,” Harry grumbled, hating himself for feeling angry with them, but unable to hold down the hurt and disappointment. Just moments ago, Harry thought he had his family. His real family. But it was all just an illusion.

“We know,” his parents said softly.

Harry looked back at them. Their eyes were damp and they were holding onto each other, like they were afraid if they let go then they could never touch again.

“Then why haven’t you come before? Why now? Why not always?” Harry asked.

His father looked sadly at him.

“You know why, Harry.”

Dumbledore’s words from all those years ago crept back to him. _It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live._

But Harry didn’t want to live in a world without his parents. He had done that for 22 years and didn’t want to do it for a minute more, even if it meant losing himself in a dream.

“We wanted to give you this gift,” Lily said. She glanced at James. “And we wanted to share this happy moment with you.”

“Can we stay?” Harry croaked out. Ginny took his hand as Lily reached for his other.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Lily said softly, nodding at Ginny’s stomach. “But that little one has to grow up. And he can’t grow up here.”

“Please,” Ginny begged. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Just a few more minutes,” James agreed.

There was so much Harry wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask. But he couldn’t find the words.

So, he stood up and hugged his parents.

“I love you so much,” he murmured.

“We love you, too,” they said in unison.

“And we love you, too, Ginny,” Lily said, bringing Ginny into their embrace.

“We’re so proud of you both,” James said, looking at Harry and Ginny.

“The things you’ve faced--you two are so strong, so, so strong,” Lily added.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Harry gulped. “Without your--your--I wish you didn’t have to--”

“I wish we didn’t have to either, Harry,” Lily said. “I wish we could have been there with you to watch you grow up.”

“To see your first Quidditch match,” James jumped in.

“To have you bring Ginny ‘round for dinner.”

“To be there for your wedding.”

“To be there for the birth of your kids.”

“But this is why we did it,” James said.

“Because we wanted you to live a long and happy life,” Lily continued. “And you’ll see, when that little one is born. You would do the same.”

“What if I’m not--” Harry inhaled. If he couldn’t voice this question here and now, he didn’t know when he ever could. “What if I can’t be a good dad because--because--”

His parents expressions told him they understood his fears. How could Harry be a good dad if he had grown up without one?

“You, Harry James Potter, are going to be an amazing dad,” Lily declared, her voice firm, despite the tears bristling in her eyes. “Because you have a strong heart and great instincts. You listen to that heart and those instincts and you’ll be perfect.”

“And if you show this child even the tiniest fraction of the love you’ve shown the rest of the world, then he’ll be the luckiest kid,” James added.

There were tears rolling down his own face, Harry realized. Ginny kissed his shoulder. She and his parents were crying, too.

“What’s going to happen?” Ginny asked. “Will we remember?”

“I hope so,” Lily replied.

Harry was about to ask if this was real, but Dumbledore’s words floated back to him, again. _Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real._

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself remember what it felt like to be in his parents’ arms.

The four gripped each other tightly, as if by holding on they could will this moment into permanence.

****

Harry woke with tears in his eyes. Rubbing his eyelids, he fished for his glasses and rolled over to see Ginny gazing at him, her expression soft and a little doleful. Harry kissed her, closing his eyes and relishing at the feel of her lips. She, at least, was real and very much not in his head.

“Gin, I wish you could have had the dream I just had,” Harry sighed when he rested his head back on his pillow.

Ginny bit her lip.

“Harry, I--I think I did.”

Harry sat up, eyes wide.

“With--with your parents. Was that the dream you had? We told them--about--about the baby.”

Harry nodded numbly.

“You were there, too.”

He meant it to come out as a question, but he stated it as a fact. Because, of course, she was with him. She would be with him until the very end.

Ginny nodded.

“Oh Harry, they’re so wonderful. So, so wonderful.”

Harry gulped at her use of the present tense. They were wonderful. But they were gone now.

He realized by Ginny’s half-guilty, half-languished expression that he had said that aloud without meaning to.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so, so sorry.”

She stroked his cheek and kissed him delicately on the lips.

“It’s just,” Harry began, trying to find the right words. “It was wonderful. It was the best dream I’ve ever had. But it was such a tease. Because I thought it was real. Really real. Not just in-my- head real.”

Ginny nodded again.

“Me, too,” she admitted.

“I wish it were really real,” Harry choked out.

The burning in his throat was becoming too much. For the second time in as many days, Ginny pulled Harry to her chest, caressing his back and kissing his temples as his tears fell on her. Ginny wished she could think of something comforting to say, but she knew no words would suffice. Still, she couldn’t help feeling relieved Harry was actually letting everything out. He needed this catharsis, instead of bottling it all in. Harry didn’t cry often, and Ginny knew she was the only one he would allow himself to be this vulnerable around. Harry knew he was safe with her, and it was something she would be enduringly grateful for.

“Thanks, Gin,” Harry said when his tears finally subsided. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, Harry Potter,” Ginny said seriously, grabbing his chin and looking him square in the eyes. “And you certainly don’t need to apologize. I want to be here for you. Because I love you. And, Harry, I’m here. I’m really here. And I’m always going to be here.”

That was the mantra they told each other, usually after nightmares when they needed to remind each other that they were home and safe, not back in a cupboard, or the Chamber, or in battle.

Harry inhaled and closed his eyes, giving Ginny’s arm a little squeeze. When he opened his eyes, she was still there, giving him that ferocious look.

Harry kissed her. His lips on hers was a confirmation of the reality of their love. 

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her lips. “I know I can’t let myself get consumed by this dream, by wishing they were here. Because they’re not. You are. You and this baby.”

He touched her stomach lightly at his last words.

Ginny smiled softly at him.

“I don’t want you to be consumed by this dream either. But Harry, it really was something special. And I don’t think you should forget it.”

So, they filled each other in on the parts the other couldn’t remember, Ginny grabbing a notebook, so they could write it all down. Already, pieces were slipping away. What had his parents been wearing? How tall was his dad? Had they talked about Quidditch? Why wouldn’t they have talked about Quidditch? Harry feared one day he would forget the whole thing entirely.

“I seem to remember your mum saying something about daily foot and back rubs,” Ginny reminded teasily. “I think we could get started on that right away.”

“Hmm, I don’t recall that.”

“You don’t want to disappoint your mum, Harry.”

“Maybe then she’ll come back to yell at me. Least I’d get to see her again,” Harry mumbled darkly.

Ginny put down the notebook and kissed him, hard this time.

“I meant what I said yesterday,” she said firmly. “This baby is part of you, so he or she will be a part of them, too. And in that way, you will see them again.”

It wouldn’t be the same. They both knew it. But Harry knew he couldn’t let himself wallow in things he couldn’t change.

But something Ginny had said reminded him of something.

Harry shot up straight.

“Gin, my mum and dad, they said ‘he.’”

“What?”

“When my parents were talking about the baby, I think they said ‘he.’”

They looked at each other dumbfounded for a moment before Ginny’s face broke into a wild smile.

“Harry, I think we’re having a boy.”

Harry beamed, but then his eyes widened. 

"Wait--did they say kids? Plural?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I added that food fight just so I could extend the dream sequence. I hope you enjoyed this story!


End file.
